


Stuck Together

by usakiwigirl



Series: This Bond is Forever [3]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e05 Mohai (Offering), Episode: s03e06 I Ka Wa Mamua (In a Time Past), First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usakiwigirl/pseuds/usakiwigirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bombs have been defused, and the dance is over, but Danny is still balanced on a knife edge of emotion. He knows that Steve is the only person who can keep him firmly tethered in his time of stress. Only problem is, he is so raw and open right now, his desire is impossible to hide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck Together

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, I’m taking on actual dialogue. I know it’s not quite accurate from the scene, but I’m doing it from memory, and I only saw the episode once. I’m close (sort of), and I know I’ve hit the gist of it. Mostly. It’s the emotional aspect I’m more interested in, and the follow-up scenes that weren’t shown (but we all wish were).

Danny is standing – well, more sort of bent over slightly, and fuck, but it hurts like hell. His knee can’t take the strain, and he isn’t getting any younger, so his back isn’t enjoying it, either. The only thing stopping him from twitching, and ending up spread from one side of the plaza to the other in a bloody, gory mess, is Steve. Well, Steve and his baby girl, Grace. And what does that say about him, that he’s putting Steve ahead of Grace at this time? Okay, so he isn’t really putting Steve first. Call it a defense mechanism; if he thinks of Grace too much, right now, right this minute, he’ll lose it. He’ll come unglued, and fall to pieces, and Steve knows it.

This situation – this fucked up, no good, why-did-the-hell-did-I-get-out-bed-today, God-awful situation – is only survivable because of the rock-like presence of Steven J. McGarrett. Danny knows this, he really does, and he’s so goddamn thankful that Steve is right here with him. He’s also going to kill the motherfucking idiot the first chance he can, because really? For all that Steve is keeping him sane, and still, and _alive_ , he shouldn’t be here at all. He should be miles away – well, as many miles as one can get on this god-forsaken, pineapple-infested hellhole – and yes, he’s well aware he’s used that particular epithet to describe Hawai’i before, thank you, but fuck you very much, his mind is not exactly focused on insults at the moment, okay? All he can really think about is Steve dying, Gracie not having a Danno anymore – or an Uncle Steve – and how soon he can change his shorts.

He really needs to get Steve away from here, he really does. Stupid-SEAL (because he no longer deserves the nickname Super-SEAL, not while he’s crouched on the ground within the blast radius) has no sense of self-preservation, none at all.

“Steve, babe, I need you to do me a favour,” Danny pants, the words quiet and restrained when not accompanied with his usual arm waving and head bobbing. “Please. I need you to look after Grace, if this... Look after my little girl? For me?”

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Steve is not going to leave Danny alone, not now, not ever. They’ll have to drag away his lifeless carcass, because that’s the only way he’s leaving this spot. Danny needs him. Any idiot can see that. And yeah, okay, he needs Danny. He needs to be there for him. Danny would say it’s his hero complex, but it’s not. It’s more than that. It’s Danny, just Danny. Last week, after Halloween, as they snuggled together on the sofa, he came to realise that he cares for Danny. No, not cares for Danny, _cares_ for Danny. As in loves him. Possibly even is in love with him, although really, it is probably way too soon to be thinking like that. And especially about a straight man who is strictly his best friend.

But his little epiphany means that there is just no way that he can walk away, not this time. Danny is Ohana, has been for a long time, and Steve would most likely do this for Kono or Chin, too, although if pushed, he’d walk. They’d tell him to leave, sure, and eventually, he probably would. Maybe.

Danny needs him. It’s obvious. The man is not used to being this still. It’s not natural. Steve doesn’t like it, either. Danny is all glorious movement and heated rhetoric, not this unnatural calm. He can see each time that Danny is about to snap, to zone out and he knows, he _knows_ , okay, he knows that it’s only because he is there, keeping Danny calm, and focused, that the bomb squad and CSU, and forensics, and who-the-fuck-knows who else, isn’t sweeping this area with a fine-tooth comb for their combined body parts.

And Danny wants him to go, even though Danny knows that it isn’t going to happen. Not even for Grace. And that’s a low blow, to pull out his daughter. Yeah, Steve knows that Danny trusts him with Grace – and that warms his heart like nothing else – but Grace still has Rachel, and Step-Stan. She would miss her Danno, and she might even miss her Uncle Steve, but at least she would still have her mother. If Steve walks now, and the bomb blows, it will kill him as surely as if he stays exactly where he is. So why move? Seriously, why even bother?

”No, Danny. You’re going to that dance. You promised Grace, and you don’t break your promises to her. And I’m not breaking my promise to you. I’m staying,” Steve needs Danny to understand that he is serious. He is in this forever. Danny is his best friend, and there is no way in hell anybody, or anything, is taking him away. He just needs Danny to focus on something other than the red light on his chest. “Now, finish your story about your partner. I want to know what happened.”

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

He’s been to the dance, and Danny has never been so fucking thankful, that something he has looked forward to ever since receiving his invitation, yet ended up being so excruciatingly painful, is finally, _finally_ over. Oh, not being with Gracie, never that, but the dancing. Yeah, he might have told the others that he is a dancing fool, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to be said dancing fool after staring down a fucking bomb. Make that two bombs. A man just isn’t cut out for this sort of shit.

He’s dropped Gracie back at Rachel and Stan’s – because God forbid he actually get to spend more than just this extra evening with his baby girl, no, he should just be fucking lucky that he gets any extra time at all, above and beyond his allotted bi-monthly weekends and weeknights. Only now he feels lost, and jittery, and on the knife edge of losing it all over again. He feels like he did when he was leaving after that fucking bomb, and the only thing holding him in place was Steve, with his calm voice, and soothing presence. And he hates that Steve was there, at the same time as he loves that Steve was not going to move away. He knows what that says about him, that he has come to rely too heavily on Steve, but he does he care? No, he does not. Halloween gave him that clarity, showed him that he is in this with Steve for the long haul; forever, or however long he manages to live, being partnered with an insane, heroic, semi-suicidal super-SEAL, with ninja skills and no sense of self-preservation. Hell, Danny knows that he loves Steve, he really does. If the fluttering in his chest is any indication, there’s a better than good chance he’s actually in love with Steve. Fuck knows the rest of the goddamn island thinks they’re already married, so it’s not like it will be a shock, or anything, if something is to happen between them.

And Christ, he must really be out of his mind, if he’s actually thinking that something is going to happen between them, because he knows for sure it won’t. Yeah, Steve sat beside him, and hugged him, and even snuffled his hair – it’s a word, and an action, alright, and he’s tired, so fuck off – during that god-awful movie, but they’re friends. Friends and partners, and that’s as far as it goes, no matter how he might wish it otherwise, their nervous laughter, near-tears, and bone-crushing hug after the bomb was disposed notwithstanding. Walking away from Steve at that moment was the hardest thing he’s ever done, even counting the unnatural act of staying still while waiting for it to be defused. If the dance with Grace had not been tonight, of all nights, he would not have left Steve alone. He knows he would have stayed.

Only he cannot go back to his tiny little apartment right now. He doesn’t think he can go back to it tonight at all. He’s pretty sure that he still needs Steve, as surely as he needed him earlier in the day. It ddoesn’t make him a girl, it just makes him human. Human, and in need of comfort because of a fucking awful day, full of the worst sort of memories, and the worst sort of stress.

That’s why he isn’t really surprised to find himself parked outside of Steve’s house, even though it’s later than he would usually show up, last week’s Halloween fiasco and redemption be damned. He just can’t bring himself to actually open the car door and walk up to the house, is all. He knows, alright, he knows that Steve is going to welcome him inside, because that is just so Steve, but for all that he is right there, and it’s apparently what his subconscious wants, he’s not so sure it’s what he should do. Not in light of how he feels towards the man, and fuck, why won’t his mind stop going round in circles? He’s been over this, and around this, and he thought he’d put it firmly to bed last week, but today, today has just messed with his head so fucking much.

He doesn’t remember getting out of the car, or walking up to the door, or even knocking – and that’s the second time in less than a week that he’s knocked on Steve’s door, when he _never_ knocks, so he knows something is seriously fucked in his mind, thanks to this day. Seeing Steve standing in the open door doesn’t do anything to help him move, or speak, either, but he does feel instantly calmer. Not all the way calm, but less torn up, and twisted.

”Danny,” Steve whispers, almost choking the words out and pulling him in roughly, the hug just as tight and emotional as the one they shared earlier. Danny can’t bring himself to say anything now, any more than he could after the bomb. All he could manage then was nervous laughter – which is pretty much all that is bubbling out of him now – and the odd, disjointed word about heading off for Grace, and the dance. Steve is just as tongue tied, and Danny is fine with that, as he knows he can’t handle words just now.

In fact, the nervous laughter from earlier isn’t really laughter anymore. It’s more like crying, and he’s so beyond caring that he’s actually crying in Steve’s arms, he’s almost laughing all over again. He can feel Steve vibrating, and making that weird, high-pitched noise he made earlier, only it isn’t laughter that is coming from him, either. Steve is also crying, and that’s just strange enough to make him pull back.

”Babe? Steven?” He’s here to find comfort for himself, but maybe to do that, he needs to bring comfort to Steve.

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Steve was not expecting to see Danny tonight, but now that he is here, he knows that this is exactly the right place for him to be. He shouldn’t be back at his shithole apartment, alone and reliving each excruciating second of this worst day ever, because he knows that that is exactly what Danny will do. He knows Danny, as surely as he knows himself.

Still, he is not expecting Danny to start laughing into the hug – which is maybe tighter than it should be, but damn it, he came so close, _so fucking close,_ to losing Danny today. Only it’s not laughter, is it? He can feel moisture seeping into his shirt, and this is what breaks him finally. There is no way he can hold it in now, the tears that he wanted to shed earlier that day.

Danny is rubbing circles on his back, and even through his tears, he is murmuring soft words. Like he’s trying to talk down a hysterical child, or gentle a wild animal. Steve feels a little like both, and he’s not sure what that says about him – that he really is emotionally stunted, just as Danny is always saying, and is craving the warm touch of a parent, or that he’s so far removed from humanity that he’s turned feral. Frankly, neither scenario is all that appealing.

”Danny, god.” Steve is barely able to get the words out around the slightly hysterical sobbing laughter that just doesn’t want to stop. His grip of Danny’s shirt is tight enough to threaten the seams, but he can feel Danny tighten his own hands as he speaks, and feel the seams around his arms pull tight, so he knows that Danny is tearing at his shirt just as hard.

His head is tucked tight against Danny’s neck, and he knows he’s leaving a soggy spot on Danny’s shoulder to rival the one Danny is leaving on his own shirt. It’s only because he doesn’t want Danny to think of him as weak, that he lifts his head, reluctantly disengages his hands and steps back. He turns his body away, using the base of his hands to dry his eyes. For a moment, he’s tempted to use his arm to wipe his nose, too, but that’s just a little too juvenile, and really, he doesn’t need to hand Danny any more ammunition. The man already finds him at fault more often than not.

”Steven, talk to me,” Danny says quietly, one arm still rubbing light circles on Steve’s back, the other gripped tight around one bicep. The angle has Danny nearly wrapped around Steve from behind.

He can’t look at him, not and still be able to speak. “Jesus, Danny, what do you want me to say?”

”I dunno, Steve. I don’t think there is any one thing you can say, or any one thing you should say, or even do.” Danny’s voice is still calm, too calm, and Steve really doesn’t like it. He’s afraid Danny is holding something back, some vital part of him that’s essential to Danny’s very soul, and if it isn’t let out soon, Danny is going to explode as surely as the bomb from earlier was primed to explode. The only way to save Danny now is to either defuse him, or detonate him.

”You want me to talk, but you don’t know what you want me to say? Fuck’s sake, Danny, why did you even bother coming here? If you don’t know what you want, just leave!”

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Danny has been holding on to his inner calm by the jagged and torn edges of his fingernails for too long now. He knows he’s only a sharp word away from snapping completely, and seriously, Steve has just shoved his foot so far down his throat, he will be farting foot odour for weeks.

He sucks in a deep breath, scrabbling to maintain his dignity, if not his calm. ”Colour me all shades of shocked, Steven, that you don’t know what to say. You would subsist on a steady diet of one-syllable words and grunts if others didn’t speak for you.” Danny knows this is patently unfair, because Steve does talk, usually using precise military jargon, but it is still speech. He also knows he is beginning to spiral out of control, his arms starting to resemble the windmills of Don Quixote’s imagination. “So no, no I am not going to leave. That’s just what you want me to do, so you can avoid any confrontation, which, you know, I find kind of ironic for a damn G.I freakin’ Joe wannabe who chases psychopaths and shoe bombers around the world for a fucking living.”

He’s progressed from waving his arms about to pacing the room, flowing around furniture and Steve as if they’re immovable objects in a fast-paced stream, and he’s the water at full flood stage. His banks are overflowing, and the room is in grave danger of destruction from nature’s forces. Steve is just watching him, his eyes hooded and his face blank. It’s a bit of a shock when Steve actually opens his mouth, and although the sentiment that spills forth is familiar, the words aren’t.

”For the last goddamn time, it’s Navy, Danny. I’m not a soldier, or an airman or a fucking Marine. I’m a goddamn fucking Navy SEAL, not G.I. fucking Joe. I swear to God, you only say this to piss me off. Well, guess what, mission fucking accomplished. Jesus, Danny, you nearly fucking died today, and you’re still making goddamn fucking jokes about which branch of the service I’m in!” By the time Steve finishes his little diatribe, he’s also waving his arms around, and pacing the room, and doing a fair impersonation of Danny, which if Danny wasn’t already so off-kilter from the day’s events, would send him into hysterical laughter. As it is, he can only stare with his mouth wide open, a look best left to idiots and freshly caught fish.

”Are you kidding me? Really? All the shit we’ve been through today, and this? This is what you’re focused on? That I ‘make too many jokes’ about you being a SEAL? Sorry, a _Navy SEAL_?”

He’s not really prepared for Steve to turn suddenly – damn sneaky-assed ninja!SEAL that he is – or for Steve to push him violently up against the nearest wall, his back hitting the solid surface with a thud that steals his breath. At least, that’s what he’s telling himself, that it’s his back meeting the wallboard robbing him of the ability to breathe; he refuses to even entertain the fleeting thought that it has anything to do with the intense look in Steve’s eyes, because there is no way on this island or any of the other tropical hellholes that make up this so-called paradise that he is seeing desire mixed in with the pain that is so plainly obvious.

The pain he can understand. He gets that, he really does. He’s still not entirely sure why he’s at Steve’s house, instead of holed up in his own shitty little apartment, reliving the nightmares of the day, but he has a feeling that pain over those same events is a large part of it. Confusion is also a big part – he’s just not too sure what exactly he’s confused about, at this precise moment. The potential list is so long, he fears old age and death before he can reach the end. So really, yes, he does understand Steve’s pain. Maybe not the exact reasons behind it, because after all, he isn’t Steve, and doesn’t – couldn’t – know what is going through the man’s head. Something he thanks all the gods – and then some – every day about, because _that_ has to be a scary place to live.

So no, no that’s not desire. It can’t be, even if it’s everything he wishes to see with every worn out fiber in his body. He’s just tired, and confused, and frustrated, and yeah, tired. The only thing he can see is pain and, and… that’s all. End of story.

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Steve has Danny pinned against the wall, and it’s everything he’s dreamed of, except the part where he’s pissed as hell, and Danny’s mad too, and they’re both hurting and in need of comfort. At least he’s managed to get a reaction out of Danny, though, which is better than the super-calm, super-still robo-Danny who first walked into his house. He much prefers Danny when he’s all movement and words; he can feel his own anxiety levels ratchet down to a more manageable state with every step and arm wave that Danny makes, although he knows he’s still balanced on a knife edge of torment, where one slip in the wrong direction could mean either freedom from this agony forever, or slicing him open and laying him bare to bleed out in a mess of emotion.

He sees the exact second Danny recognises the secondary emotion in his face, the one he’s tried so hard to bury – the desire and love he feels for his friend and partner. It gives him a second of hope that Danny might return those feelings, because he’s sure he can see the same thing on Danny’s expressive face. He could be wrong, because Danny has closed off his face once again, and where there was animation and life, there is now only exhaustion and pain, and yeah, even death, from reliving the past while fearing for his future. He’s kind of good at reading Danny’s face and emotions though, so no, he doesn’t think he’s wrong. Danny might be hiding it, but he feels something for Steve. Just what he feels though, is the big question.

He wants to know for sure if he is right about Danny. He’s a SEAL. He’s used to running covert ops, and putting strategic plans together on the fly, but this is a bit out of his comfort zone. For one thing, Danny is right – he’s not that great with emotion, not when it comes to other people, at least. For another, he’s dealing with a man. This is all new to him. He’s not done anything like this before. He’s only ever had physical contact with a woman, and even that is sporadic, thanks to his insane work ethic. He’s pretty sure he knows what to do – well, he has an idea, at least. DADT has been around his entire career, sure, but Steve knows that shit happens, he isn’t stupid. He just never expected to need the skills himself. The logistics of sex with another man – with Danny – is freezing him in place. Is he supposed to ask? Start tearing at clothes – skin would be a bonus, if he’s honest. The few glimpses of Danny that he’s caught over the couple of years they’ve worked together have shown a firm body that begs for attention. Or maybe he should treat this as he would any other starting ‘thing’ – with a kiss.

His body is acting while his mind is reeling. He’s loosened his grip on Danny’s shirt, at least with one hand, which he finds cupped around Danny’s cheek. His thumb is rubbing small circles under Danny’s eye, and his palm is tingling from the roughness just starting to bleed through Danny’s skin. The juxtaposition of smooth and sandpaper scrape is like fire across his nerves. His skin is prickling, his scalp tightening, and yeah, he’s getting hard. It’s actually taking some effort not to drive his hips against Danny, not to push hard and maybe feel a little return pressure, or friction. If just touching Danny’s face can do this to him, what about other stuff?

Steve groans and Danny whispers _’Steve’_ , but Steve doesn’t know who makes the first noise, or the first move, and at the first touch of Danny’s lips, he doesn’t care. The kiss is soft, and tentative, and damn near chaste, except that’s not what he wants from Danny, not now. No, he finally, _finally_ has Danny right where he wants him, and by god, he’s not letting him go, not without tasting, and touching. And maybe that’s all he’s going to have the chance to do – he closed his eyes immediately, and he’s not afraid to admit he’s scared to open them and see disappointment or disgust on Danny’s face.

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Danny is floating in a sea of emotions, lust and desire and confusion and fear and pain and just plain want all tangled together like ropes of conflicting seaweed. Steve has pressed his body tight against the wall, almost smothering him. It’s comforting, yes, after the hell of this day, to have Steve’s solid bulk act as a shield against the world. It’s also arousing as all hell, damn it, and then Steve has to throw a spanner in the works by holding his face? And groaning? It’s too much. A man can only handle so much before snapping.

The first brush of Steve’s lips to his own is so tender, his heart nearly breaks. He feels fragile enough, what with bombs, and memories fucking with his head, but Steve now has him feeling like a piece of crazed glass, about to shatter with one light touch. He can’t do this – careful, timid, restrained. This touch of Steve’s lips has finally clued him in to what he wants from this night, what he needs; reaffirmation of life, something that he couldn’t do all those years ago with Rachel, because of her fragile, newly-pregnant state. He needs _something_ \- fuck only knows what, because this is all just a bit new to him, yes, thank you very much – but he needs it just the same.

Maybe – even though it is all new, and he doesn’t have a fucking clue what to do – he isn’t going to need an instruction manual laying out all the steps, anyway. His body seems to be on autopilot, and doesn’t require his input. He’s harder than he’s been in years – yeah, even with Rach, and fuck, it hurts – and oh, look, his hands have moved to Steve’s back, and head. Those are familiar positions, although he’s not used to his partner being half a fucking foot taller than him. Usually they’re more the same height, especially if the woman takes off her heels. He’s short, he knows it, but he’s never had any complaints, not in _any_ department – not performance, not care, not romance, and most definitely not in size. It’s not boasting to say he’s hung like a horse, it’s just the truth. He’s always thought of it as God’s way of making up for setting his ass too close to the fucking pavement.

He fists a handful of Steve’s hair, pulling his head harder and closer so he can deepen the kiss. It’s like putting a match to kindling, or gunpowder. Explosive. Lightening zings down his spine at the same time as he licks across Steve’s lips, forcing his mouth open. He wants to count teeth, count fillings – hell, he wants to count the fucking _taste buds_ on Steve’s tongue. It’s like ambrosia, nectar of the gods, or some such sentimental shit. Danny doesn’t remember a kiss ever hitting him this hard. Steve is sweet, and sour, and spicy and just so fucking Steve, it’s perfect. Danny feels like he’s on fire; his back is drenched in sweat, his face, his neck, all of him is hotter than hell simply from this one scorching kiss. He can hear the sound of his damp shirt hitting the wall rhythmically, a wet, slightly sticky sound as the material repeatedly peels off the paint. It takes a moment to process why; Steve is returning the kiss with equal fervor. He is rocking his pelvis against Danny’s hip, the hard evidence of his arousal easily felt.

He has no idea how long they stand there kissing – it feels like forever, and no time at all. He’s lost in Steve, in his touch, his smell, his taste. His senses are reeling, and he can feel himself climbing ever higher towards that point of no return. It’s as a particularly sharp jolt of pleasure shoots through his body, that his mind clears suddenly.

It takes every ounce of willpower he possesses to stop kissing Steve, to turn his head, and to push him away.

“Steve, stop. Fuck.” He scrabbles both his hands across his face, and over his head to the back of his neck. “ Jesus. What the fuck are we doing? What are _you_ doing? What am _I_ doing? We’re partners, Steven, partners. We work together. You’re my partner, and my boss, and Jesus fuck, what the hell am I thinking? I’m not… I mean, you’re not, either, you’re with Catherine, for fuck’s sake, you shouldn’t even be… and this is just insane. This is so many kinds of wrong, I don’t even know where to begin.”

”Danny—“

”No, Steve, listen to me. Seriously, do you know what the fuck you’re doing? Because I sure as hell don’t.” Steve opens his mouth to interject, but Danny puts a hand across his mouth in an effort to keep him quiet. “Did I say you could talk? Did I? No, I did not. Do not make me gag you, SEAL boy.”

He can feel Steve smirking behind his hand, and that, more than anything, settles things in his mind. “Obviously, whether you know what you are doing or not makes no difference, as usual. I should be thankful , I guess, that nobody is shooting at us. At least I don’t have to worry about you throwing yourself in front of a bullet. Look, Steve, what I meant was, do you know what you’re doing, physically?”

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Danny’s hand across Steve’s mouth while he is talking – ranting – is sort of distracting. It makes him want to lick at the soft skin pressing on his lips, rather than listen to whatever tirade Danny is throwing in his direction now. But Danny is serious, he can see it in his eyes, even through the desire that is still evident on his face. He settles for a quick swipe of his tongue, just enough to taste, as he wraps a slightly unsteady hand around Danny’s wrist and pulls it away from his face.

”I’m not a virgin, D. Sex isn’t exactly a mystery to me.”

”I know you’re not a… you Neanderthal. That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Do you have experience with another man? I know the military can be close, and needs must, yada yada, but you’ve always struck me as very definitely straight – you have a girlfriend, remember her, Catherine, very pretty, useful in an emergency, you two have a _thing_ \- plus there was that whole Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell business while you served—“ Danny’s free arm is waving around, coming close to smacking Steve in the face. It’s a sound idea to grab it, and pull it close – and if Danny is reeled in at the same time, well, that’s just a bonus.

”Jesus, Danny, breathe. No, I’ve not done this with another guy. Yes, I remember Cath, and thanks for bringing her up, that’s real romantic of you.” This time, it’s Danny who opens his mouth in protest. Steve doesn’t have a free hand, so he uses the next best thing – his mouth. The kiss is short, but effective. Danny is left panting, and leaning against the wall, his eyes slightly glazed. Steve thinks it’s a good look on him.

”Better. It’s my turn to talk, Danno. As I said, I’ve not done this before, as such, but I’m not stupid, either. Guys talk, and whether I wanted to hear it or not, I did, so I learned. Maybe not everything, but enough. Besides, think about it, D – what feels good to you? Seriously? The same thing is probably going to feel good to me.” And here, Steve’s voice loses its confidence, and becomes quiet and a little unsure, almost tentative. “I… I want this, Danny. I’ve wanted… I’ve… fuck.”

”Okay. Full disclosure, babe; I want this, too. I’m shit-scared, because I haven’t got a fucking clue what I’m doing, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I still want you, more than I think I’ve wanted anything in my life, except Grace. And that’s the last time I want to put my daughter’s name and the fact that I want to roll around naked with you together in one sentence. Because that’s even more wrong than this.”

”Why is this wrong, Danny? Why do you keep on about that?”

”Why is this wrong? Why is this… What? Are you crazy? Can you not see it? Can you not see how this is insane, in every way that it could be? You’re my fucking boss, Steven! My boss, and my partner. Those two things should not cross over into the bedroom, ever! It’s a recipe for disaster.”

”So we stay out of the bedroom. We’ll use the couch instead.” Steve knows he is pushing Danny with this statement, but baiting the man is just so much fun. And Danny has lost nearly all of the haunted look he arrived with, so it must be working.

”Oh, my god, you really are a fucking animal.”

He thinks maybe it’s time to be a little more serious. ”Danny, I get it, I do. I don’t care, though. Come on, D, think about it – the whole island thinks we’re in a relationship already, so why not just make it real? You’re already my best friend, we’ll just be closer still.” He lets go of Danny’s wrists, wrapping his arms around Danny’s back instead, one hand low on his ass, the other cupping the back of his head. It gives him enough leverage to press up against Danny’s body once more, a position he’s rapidly finding very addictive.

”That still doesn’t make it right, Steven.”

It’s probably cheating – okay, it’s definitely cheating, but at this point, Steve is going to use every advantage he has, as he pushes his body even closer to Danny’s, using his height against Danny in a way he hasn’t since the first day they met. He speaks quietly into Danny’s ear, noting with delight how the skin on his face flushes, and his body shakes. “Maybe not, D, but do you really want to stop?”

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Danny’s tried denial, and he’s tried reasoning, and fuck knows he’s lived in oblivion for long enough, too. He’s not Superman; Steve is breathing down his fucking neck, quite literally, and every nerve in his body is composing an aria in his honor. It isn’t really a hard question to answer. Not embarrassing himself by coming in his pants like a teenager is, however.

”Fuck, no.”

”Didn’t think so.”

Danny’s never been happy with Steve’s gung-ho and take-charge attitude. It’s reckless and life-endangering, to say the least. Right this minute, though, he’s ecstatic that Steve goes into a situation full-steam ahead, all systems firing, take no prisoners, no back-up required. Their first kiss left him in a condition perilously close to the edge, and thanks to Steve and his talented tongue and roaming hands, this kiss is going to finish the job.

He manages to break off the kiss just long enough to gasp out one word - _”Bed”_ \- to which he receives no verbal answer, but finds himself turned around and slowly backed toward the stairs, the kiss never really stopping. The ascent is slow, Steve letting Danny step first, and then joining him on each tread. They stop halfway up, too intent on their kiss to continue, hands already pulling at t-shirts and buttons. Danny has no idea how long it takes them to reach Steve’s bedroom, and he’s a little surprised to find his shirt hanging open when they get there. He knows he didn’t undo the buttons himself, but doesn’t remember Steve doing it either; he was too busy pushing the man’s t-shirt up to his armpits so he could run his hands over all that smooth skin.

They break apart long enough to pull their respective shirts off. Danny has seen Steve half-naked a dozen times or more over the last two years, but this is different; he didn’t have permission to touch, then, or the desire. Danny isn’t sure what to think, looking at Steve. He’s never looked at a man in a sexual manner before, and seeing Steve half-naked is just reinforcing the fact that this is completely alien to him. Kissing is one thing, but touching is something different.

Then again, he has a distinct sense memory of hot skin under the palms of his hands, and he’s pretty sure that it was Steve’s smooth stomach. Aside from the fact that Steve’s muscles are rock hard – which is way more of a turn-on than Danny thinks it should be – it’s not really that much different from a woman. _Skin is skin is skin_ , he thinks, swallowing lightly as he steps forward. He wants to touch Steve, to run his hands up over those tight muscles, and feel Steve’s heartbeat under his fingers.

The feeling of crisp chest hair is a bit of a shock – he can see it, of course he can, but he’s never pulled his fingers through anything like that, not with intent. His own chest doesn’t count. Steve isn’t nearly as hirsute as he is – Chewbacca, really? – but he does still have some hair. It doesn’t feel the same at all, and watching Steve’s eyes darken with pleasure, and hearing his breath catch is an unexpected bonus. It also makes Danny wonder if Steve is as sensitive on his pectorals and nipples as he is.

He’s pulled from his musings by the light touch of Steve’s hands on his own chest, Steve’s fingers tangling softly in the dense hair and brushing gently over his nipples. He can’t control the gasp that escapes at the brief touch, bolts of pleasure winging their way south to pool heavily in his groin. This situation may be new, and fraught with unexpected experiences, but Danny knows his body, knows just how close he is to coming. It’s a little frightening to realize just how much power Steve appears to hold over him, hauling him this close to the edge simply by kissing him and touching him lightly.

He’s still a little off balance, though. Yes, he wants Steve – his very heightened state of arousal is all the evidence he needs to prove that. Yes, he can touch Steve, at least on his chest. He can even run his hands down his arms and around to his back. That’s not difficult. They’re still half-dressed, after all. If he just concentrates on Steve from the waist up, he doesn’t have to think about touching him… _there_. God, he feels like a five-year old, because he can’t even _think_ the word, let alone say it out loud. He has a horrible suspicion he’ll start giggling like one of Grace’s school friends if he even tries. This whole situation is just so surreal.

While his mind is still trying to process the fact that he’s half undressed in Steve’s bedroom, and about to get wild and funky with his best friend, his partner, his very _male_ boss, Steve has stepped back out of the way and dropped his cargo pants to the floor, leaving him standing in nothing but an extremely tight – and revealing – pair of boxer briefs. Danny’s already having trouble breathing, but now it stops completely. Holy fucking hell, Steve is magnificent. He’s a Greek fucking God, Michelangelo’s David, absolutely perfect – and he’s not even naked. And even though Danny has never – not once, he’ll swear on his mother’s name to his death – looked at another man’s dick with desire, he finds he cannot wait to peel Steve out of his final layer of fabric.

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Steve has watched Danny’s conflicting emotions with a mixture of amusement and understanding. He gets it, he really does, just why Danny is having trouble with the idea of the two of them together, but it’s still kind of funny watching him fight his own desires. Which isn’t really fair, he knows, but he’s past playing fair. He’s fought his own demons over this and, ignoring all accidental and incidental puns, he’s never come so close to what he wants. He’s not stopping now.

Danny is still mostly dressed, though. He’s lost the shirt, but his pants are firmly belted just below his waist, and he’s still wearing shoes. It all needs to go. Steve has waited too long to see Danny’s body, and it’s taken him too long to work up the courage to get to this point. He _needs_ to see all of Danny, to be able to touch him. He steps cautiously towards him; he’s a little afraid that Danny will turn tail and run from the room. It’s a pleasant surprise that he doesn’t. Danny holds his ground; he swallows heavily, and fists his hands tight by his side, but he doesn’t so much as twitch out of place.

He’s just as cautious reaching for Danny’s belt, but Danny does nothing more than suck in a sharp lungful of air. It gives him hope, but he’s still not going to rush the job – for his sake, because he wants to enjoy peeling Danny from his many layers – and for Danny’s sake, because he doesn’t want to spook him. But Danny is letting him do this, which just goes to show the trust the man has in him. Steve doesn’t want to disappoint Danny by breaking that trust.

His hands start shaking as he undoes the belt completely, and by the time he reaches the button on Danny’s waistband, he’s vibrating so much, he can’t actually wrap his fingers around the small, hard piece of plastic at all. It’s Danny who stops him, who grabs his hands and gently pulls them away, a soft _’Steve’_ falling from his lips. Danny touches his face, his fingers barely grazing the skin.

Danny’s hand is soft on his jaw, his thumb just brushing across his cheek. The touch is more intimate than anything else Danny has done this night – it’s not frantic, or hectic, or rushed in any way, nor is it tentative or nervous. Steve can feel his suddenly scrambled nerves settle once more. It’s always like this with Danny; since their very first encounter, Danny has had the ability to ground him, to anchor him to a reality that sometimes seems just that little bit out of reach. His life has been an action movie for so long, he forgets about consequences, but Danny pulls him back to the here and now whenever he runs the risk of disappearing back into the fantasy world of guns and violence that the Navy and SEAL training dragged him into.

”Babe. It’s okay. Let me,” Danny says quietly, pulling his head down and kissing him with such sweet intensity, Steve is frozen in place. He couldn’t move if he tried, and he doesn’t want to. Danny has stepped back, kicking off his shoes and loosening the fastenings on his own trousers, pushing them past his slim hips and over his firm backside, letting them fall to the floor and stepping clear. Just like Steve, he’s left standing in a tight pair of briefs, so there’s nothing but imagination and a thin layer of fabric until Steve can see all of him.

Danny is compact, and built for battle. He is defined, and cut, and – in Steve’s humble opinion – goddamned fucking gorgeous. Even the generous layer of hair that covers 90% of Danny’s body doesn’t detract from his appeal. He’s pure man, and for the first time in Steve’s life, he wants to touch, to taste, to explore a guy. This guy. He wants to learn all there is to know about Danny and his body. He wants to know what makes Danny shiver, what makes him groan, what makes him cry out in pleasure, and what makes him scream when he comes. He wants to hear all the sounds that Danny makes, see everything that Danny’s body does, taste everything there is that comes from Danny.

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Danny’s nerves are finally settling; he doesn’t feel like a teenager having his first sexual encounter anymore. Well, not as much, anyway. He’s still nervous, and excited, and scared, but seeing Steve’s hands shake as he tries to undo his pants helps ground him, strangely, and allows him to find the courage he needs to move forward, literally and figuratively.

He’s trying to think what to do next, when Steve’s words from earlier come back to him; _’What feels good to you? Seriously? The same thing is probably going to feel good to me.’_ With that in mind – because yeah, he knows exactly what will feel good right this minute, and that’s Steve’s hands on him – he grabs Steve and pulls him to the bed, pushing him not-so-gently onto the mattress when he doesn’t immediately lie down. It’s more familiar territory, to be the lead, the aggressor, not that he’s ever actually aggressive, as such. Not in the bedroom. He just likes being in charge. Now that his nerves have finally settled, and he feels as if he’s where he should be, he wants to lead. Steve doesn’t seem to mind, letting Danny take over, allowing him to move his limbs around until they’re lying comfortably together, facing each other with barely any space between them. It’s the closest they’ve been with the least amount of clothing yet, and for the first time, Danny feels nothing but pure desire. There is no more fear, or hesitation, just an intense need to touch and be touched in return.

He runs a hand over Steve’s shoulder, loving the feel of firm muscle beneath the hot skin. Steve lifts his own hand and mirrors his actions, causing goose bumps to form over Danny’s arm, and the hair on the back of his neck to stand up and take notice. He drops his hand a little, smoothing it over Steve’s chest, and catching the tight bud of his nipple under his thumb. Again, Steve copies his every move, and knowing what he plans on doing next, and that Steve will do the same, is nearly too much for Danny. It increases the pleasure he gets from touching Steve, and watching him, learning him, to see Steve get pleasure from touching Danny, and watching and learning him, in return.

He slides his hand down Steve’s abdomen, counting each muscle as it tightens under his palm. He can’t help his own reflexive response to Steve doing the same to him, and wonders what the man feels as he catches his fingers in the dense hair at the waistband of his briefs. This is it, the moment of truth; if he so much as brushes a finger across Steve’s underwear, any possibility of plausible deniability, however small, goes completely out the window. Of course, after everything else that’s happened this night, why he’d even contemplate such a thing is now totally beyond him.

He hooks his fingers under the elastic, and slips his hand beneath the fabric, resting gently on the curve of Steve’s ass. He’s not used to there being so much hair under his palm, but the shape is familiar, and comforting. Steve’s fingers are digging into the muscle of his own ass, as if tugging him closer. Danny doesn’t mind indulging the request at all, and within seconds, they’re plastered together tighter than ever before. Lying like this, he doesn’t notice their height difference so much, and it’s much easier to find Steve’s lips without risk of a serious neck injury.

With all their bare skin touching, and only the thin fabric of their underwear keeping their groins apart, it doesn’t take long for the kiss to spiral out of control. Still lying on their sides, they’re rocking against each other, and feeling for the first time the amazing friction of cock against cock, albeit hampered by layers of clothing. Steve rolls onto his back, pulling Danny over to lie on top of him, as Danny drags his hand free to desperately push at his own underwear. They’re uncoordinated and clumsy, frantic and frenetic in their rush to rid themselves of any remaining barriers. As soon as he can, Danny is back on top of Steve, his hands framing Steve’s face and his lips devouring Steve’s mouth. He has no clue what his body is doing, but it must be doing it right, because Steve is writhing and moaning beneath him, holding him tight by the hips and rocking up into him. Their dicks are sliding slickly against each other, and the only thing that Danny thinks could be more perfect, would be if he was actually fucking somebody. If he was actually fucking Steve.

And holy hell in a hand basket, did he really just think that? Did he really just think of fucking Steve? He’s not a moron, he knows men fuck each other in the ass – the logistics of how, he’s never given any thought to, but he knows they do it. The thought is in his head now, though, and he’s harder than ever, and oh god, he’s going to blow, because, _Jesus_ , just the thought of sliding his dick in and out of Steve’s tight ass, of watching himself fuck Steve until the man begs to be allowed to come, is a heady rush, and nearly eclipses Steve’s shout as he climaxes, his entire body tensing beneath Danny, spurts of liquid heat hitting Danny’s stomach, and smearing between them as he rocks out his own wicked, almost painful, orgasm.

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

Steve is relaxed, and sated, and comfortably tired. Danny’s body is pressing him deep into the mattress, and he feels no urge to move from under him. A small part of his brain is aware that at some point they will have to talk, because what they’ve just done is big. It’s more than big. This is huge, game-changing – no, _life_ -changing. Everything around him looks brighter, as if he’s looking through rose-colored glasses, or maybe the best polarized sunglasses available, which is sappy in the extreme, but that’s just how damn good he feels right now. He knows his forehead is scrunched up in disgust at his own thoughts, but thankfully, Danny has his face pressed into his neck, and can’t see his expression. It’s just as well, because he knows if Danny catches a glimpse of him looking anything less than content, this is likely to blow up in his face. Then again, he always forgets just how well Danny knows him.

”What is with the aneurysm face, Steve?” Danny mutters, his lips brushing against Steve’s neck. It sends tendrils of pleasure directly to his cock, which he could swear was out of commission for at least another hour. But no, he can feel it twitching valiantly against Danny’s monster dick – and where the hell did _that_ come from because, hello, not exactly in proportion to the rest of Danny’s diminutive stature – and yeah, give him a few more minutes of lying like this, and maybe a little kissing and touching, and he thinks he’ll be more than ready to have another go. Probably not, though.

Danny raises his head, and looks down the length of their bodies. “Oh, my God, seriously? You’re fucking kidding, right? You are a fucking animal, McGarrett. What is wrong with you?”

”Relax, D. It’s wishful thinking, nothing more. And I don’t have ‘aneurysm face’.” Which is now a blatant lie, because Steve knows full well his face is all scrunched up, and he really does look like he’s about to blow multiple blood vessels. How does Danny do this to him? Just as the man has the ability to ground Steve and pull him back from the brink of insanity, he also has the irritating tendency to find and fire all of Steve’s buttons at once. Steve could swear he was the most relaxed he’s been in years only a few minutes ago, but now he’s ready to take up arms and go hunting. And he’s willing to use Danny for target practice as warm up.

Danny rolls off him to one side, propping his head on one hand, and laying the other on Steve’s chest. It’s the only thing stopping Steve from leaping from the bed and pacing the room. “That was a rhetorical question I asked before, but now I really want to know: what’s wrong with you? Why do you have aneurysm face? Why are you screwing your face up at me?”

”I’m not screwing up my face, Danny.”

”Yes, yes, you are. Right there. There, between your eyes. Those lines, right there. _That_ is aneurysm face. Why do you have it?” Danny’s hand is, as usual, circling his air space, threatening his nose and his eyes with stray fingers and solid bone.

Steve can’t help it; his hand strikes without warning, grabbing Danny’s wrist and holding tight.

”Ow. Fuck you very much, Steve. All you had to say was stop.” Danny wrenches his arm free and glares at Steve, deliberately shaking his hand over Steve’s face once more. “Neanderthal.”

”I’m fine, Danny.”

”No, you’re not. You still have a face. Why do you have a face?”

”Because I was born with it! Jesus, Danny, you just don’t know when to quit, do you? Fuck.” Steve pushes Danny’s arm off his chest, and sits up. “Why couldn’t you just leave it alone, Daniel.”

H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50 H50

An insatiable need to know everything has always been Danny’s weakness – it’s one of the driving forces behind him becoming a cop in the first place. It’s not the only one, of course, but it does figure up near the top of the list. He knows that much about himself. He suspects that it’s also what makes Steve good at what he does – that, and the fact that he’s clinically insane, and doesn’t know when to back down from a dangerous situation. What that says about Danny, who willingly follows him into such situations, he’s not going to analyze, not now, and not later.

The need to always know everything sometimes gets him into trouble, however, and it looks like this is going to be one of those times. Danny doesn’t know why he has to keep pushing at Steve, why he can’t just keep his mouth shut and enjoy a little post-coital time, maybe even a nap, before starting to dig for trouble. He knows they need to talk, because what has just happened is monumental in so many ways – not the least of which is the loss of his man-on-man virginity. And he really needs to think of something else, because that is still kind of freaking him out, internally anyway.

”No, I don’t know when to leave things alone. It’s what makes me a good cop, Steve, and you already know that. We just had what is probably some of the best sex I’ve ever had, Steven, and you’re pulling faces afterward. Of course I want to know what’s wrong. Now, are you going to tell me, or am I just going to keep talking until I’m blue in the face, because you know, I can do that. It’s not a problem for me, I’m quite capable of keeping this up for hours, you know this about me already. I’ve been known to go on and on forever about—“

Steve spins around, pinning Danny flat on his back, with one hand over his mouth. “Shut up. Just shut the fuck up, Danny. I swear to god, you drive me insane. I didn’t want to do this now, okay? Why can’t we just enjoy the moment, huh?”

Danny looks at Steve’s face just inches above his own. Yeah, the man does look annoyed, and a little spooked, and really, Danny thought that was his domain. Wasn’t he the one who had a major freak-out before they started rolling across the bed naked? Steve seemed to be taking the whole man-on-man thing a whole lot better than Danny earlier, even if it is new to both of them.

”I get we need to talk about this, Steve, but I’m not suggesting we do it now. I just want to know why you went from relaxed to tense in a matter of seconds. You tried to hide it, but I know you, babe, you can’t hide that shit from me.”

”Okay, Danny. Dog with a fucking bone, seriously. I’m happy, okay? And it feels weird. I’m not used to it. You satisfied now?”

”Seriously? That’s what caused your face to turn inside out? You’re happy? I knew your mind was a fucked up, scary place to live. You’ve just gone and proved it. Happy people smile, Steven, they don’t frown, or scowl, or get all tense and defensive. They think butterflies and daisies.”

”Butterflies and daisies. Really.”

”You know what I mean. Don’t be an ass just to be an ass, Steven.”

”No, I leave that to you, Danny. You’re way better qualified than I am.”

This is more like it – Danny is used to he and Steve constantly sniping at each other, and this just feels right, even with Steve’s naked body pressing him deep into the mattress.

”Yes, I am, Steve, I am better qualified. I am also better qualified at expressing emotions, you big goof, so this is me, telling you, that I am also happy. You have made me happy, and for that, I thank you.” Danny smiles up at Steve. It’s amazing, and hard to believe, but true – Steve has indeed pulled Danny out from the depths of what could have been a very deep, extremely dark place. He feels like a new man, no longer haunted by the demons of yesterday, or today.

And to top it all off, it looks like he might just have landed himself a hot Navy SEAL for a partner, in every way possible.

End

**Author's Note:**

> It might take me a little bit, but there is more to this series planned. It's more or less AU from here on out, although I may be able to drag in the odd scene or two from the show as I can work them in. I missed the last episode, however, due to being away. Guess I'll just have to wait for it to come out on blu-ray!


End file.
